Tent City Hero
by Wonky-Writer
Summary: Peter battles with the struggles of homelessness after getting the short stick in life. However, can he get back on his feet while trying to solve a strange occurrence of violent crimes? Or will he meet his end at the hands of this violent organization? Luckily someone is watching out for his fine ass. . . OR . Wade Wilson finally finds something to spend his money on.


**Tent City Hero**

Chapter 1

 _If a Tree Falls in a Jungle..._

"We think sometimes that poverty is only being hungry, naked and homeless. The poverty of being unwanted, unloved and uncared for is the greatest poverty." The show host of the radio rattled on with some quote from some lady from some time ago, Morris wasn't sure. His eyes were trained on the flashing red and blue lights dancing over a taped off construction sight.

Quickly he drove his car up beside one of the marked police vehicles before shutting off the engine and stepping out. Immediately he was hit with and overwhelming stench, drifting on the brisk night breeze. Despite the utter darkness of night engulfing the small construction sight, there was no denying the source of that sickening smell.

"Another body?" Detective Moriss questioned as he neared one of the many police men scattered around the scene.

"Yup." The familiar officer grumbled and pointed off to a shadowy lump lying in a large concrete pipe. The police lights flashed across the area, illuminating the figure of a charred body. By now there was no doubt in the detective's mind that this would be another addition to the long list of unexplained attacks on the homeless. Similar cases had been compiling on his desk all month.

"Any ID on him?" Moriss asked, but he already knew the answer.

"Nope. His clothes are barely there and the flesh is melted beyond recognition. I'm not even sure if there are any teeth left for you to check for dental records." The officer said. Morris hummed in thought, scrunching his nose as a gust of wind blew another wave of rot right in his face.

"People are going to start asking questions soon." The officer added, sending a glare towards the detective. "There haven't been any reports of missing persons...not yet anyways. But it won't take long before someone notices the beggars they pass on the streets everyday are disappearing."

"I've been working the cases." Morris frowned, catching the aggressive tone the other man was giving him. The officer grunted, turning his attention back to the report in his hands before muttering under his breath,

"With all the heroes in this town you'd think crap like this wouldn't happen."

Detective Morris ignored the officers irritated comment and shuffled back to his car. He hated to admit it, but this was turning out to be one of the toughest and bizarre cases he had ever been assigned. Charred and dismembered bodies were popping up all over New York. All the victims shared one thing in common, each was identified as homeless, living in back allies and tent cities.

Morris pulled his phone from his pant's pocket, flipping through his contacts. Perhaps it was time he reported this to his boss. The phone rang in his ear twice before it clicked and someone answered,

"Agent Morris."

"Nick, there's something going on I think you should hear."

* * *

Wade had his face pressed against the cool glass of the S.H.I.E.L.D helicopter he'd been riding in for hours now. They were zipping over the Atlantic for longer than he found comfortable but the mercenary was happy to finally see a line of lights off in the distance. There was no mistaking the brightly colored florescent and neons, and he could practically hear the traffic, that was New York City.

"Now you're In New York, these streets will make you feel brand new. Big lights will inspire you." He hummed under his breath. Excitement and relief coursed through him simultaneously, making him fidget impatiently in his seat. He couldn't wait to land, to finally be back in a first world country. Of course, there were other things about New York that had him ecstatic; chimichangas, pizza, and of course, Spider-Man, but for now he was trying to keep his mind off the "webbed wonder". If he thought anymore about that perfect ass he was bound to make the helicopter ride uncomfortable for him and the S.H.I.E.L.D agents with him.

"So what's the first thing you'll eat once we land? Lemme guess...a Big Mac? There's nothing better than a crappy burger after being in the jungle for eight months." He leaned away from the glass and into the personal space of the agent beside him. The man in question huffed audibly before scooting as far from the mercenary as his seat would let him. Deadpool was not deterred.

"Or maybe you're a vegetarian? Vegan? Pescatarian? That's popular now right? Although I'm guessing you're not." He gave the man's bicep a curious squeeze. The agent held his ground while at the same time refusing to even acknowledge the question...or the arm groping. Eventually Wade got bored pestering the poor man and turned his sight back to the window, letting a bored sigh seep through his leather mask.

Soon the far off lights became defined buildings and traffic stops. Their vehicle sailed over the city and Wade couldn't help but smush his face against the window hoping to catch a glimpse of his favorite hero. Surely he was out fighting crime at this hour.

"Think he missed us?" He whispered to himself.

{Yes! He probably has our picture set as his lock screen and stares at it everyday. Wonder if he'll have a welcome back present for us!?} Yellow chittered with enthusiasm.

[Doubt it. He probably enjoyed the break from your annoying ass.] White hissed negatively. [Also, I thought you weren't going to think about him. What happened to that?]

"I tried."

{We failed.} Wade and Yellow responded together. White grumbled in annoyance.

The helicopter lurched to a stop as it came to a landing on top of a dark building in mid Manhattan. The agent seated beside Deadpool gratefully moved his legs out of the way as the mercenary practically crawled over him to get out of the flying machine.

"Well, it's been fun boys. Next time I get to pick the vacation spot." He winked at the S.H.I.E.L.D agents as the helicopter slowly began to rise back into the air.

"Agent Fury will call you when he needs you again!" One of the men shouted before chucking a dark duffle bag out the open door. It flopped onto the roof beside Wade's feet, catching his attention. The chopper took back off high above the bustling streets of New York, and Deadpool was alone with a bag stuffed with money.

[How much did we get this time?] White asked, referring to the wads of cash in the bag that Wade was currently hoisting over his back.

"Don't remember...Nick said something about three point million something but who can really tell?" Wade said aloud.

[Uh, you. You can tell. Count the money you idiot. We could always put it in the bank instead of stashing it under our mattress...where you'll inevitably lose it...again.] the voice in his head hissed in irritation. White was always griping about something.

{Three point million dollars!? Now we can finally get those fuzzy Spidey socks we've always wanted!} Yellow gasped happily.

"Yes!" Wade agreed.

[NO! We did not spend over half a year living off of cornstarch and water and shitting over a hole in the ground to blow all our money!]

"Well duh, I've got to save some of it." Wade assured him.

{Yeah, for chimichangas.}

"Beer."

{Netflix.}

White was quiet, he could only take Wade and Yellow for so long before shutting himself off in a way. Stupidity was his only weakness. Wade climbed his way down the building as Yellow listed off the random things he wished to spend their earnings on. As much as Wade hated agreeing with the boxes, he knew White was right. He couldn't spend all the cash in one place and should probably save a large chunk of it, that way he wouldn't have to take another mission for a while.

"More money, more time, more Spidey!" He smiled, finally reaching the street.

To say he missed the arachnid was an understatement, he was having withdrawals. He could hardly wait to see him again. Every night he had spent in the middle of the Congo his mind had been back in New York, dreaming of his favorite spandex clad hero.

The mercenary made his way through the bustling night life of the city before finally arriving at one of his safe houses. The small apartment was cramped in an old brick building two stories above a smelly cigar store. His only windows viewed the dark alley way bellow and the power only worked half of the time. This caused his living space to be blanketed in shadows, something he was used to by now.

Wade heaved his bag of moola onto a large gun crate that sat in the tiny kitchen, he supposed it was technically his kitchen table. As tempting as it was to go through the stacks of green backs and see just how much he'd be able to blow on pointless novelty items, Wade was simply too exhausted. He couldn't even be bothered with trudging to the bed in the back room. Instead he flopped onto the couch with a groan, so glad he wasn't sleeping in a cot in some tent in some far off jungle.

"Concrete jungle over plant jungle any day."

{The Spiders in the Congo aren't as cute as the spiders in NY.} Yellow added.

[Neither of them like us though.] White grumbled.

{That's not true! Spidey loves us! He always let's us patrol with him!} Yellow fussed, he wasn't taking any of White's usual negativity.

"Shut up." Wade grumbled, ripping the mask off his face and letting it fall to the floor. He kicked his boots off lazily and let his head rest against the sofa's arm. His gaze trailed through the dark and to a small huddle of pictures taped to the wall beside him. They were skilfully taken shots of Spider-Man that Wade had cut out of newspapers over the years. His eye lids grew heavy and a contented smile spread across his scarred face. Although he always felt like the hero only let Deadpool stick around him out of pure pity, he couldn't help the flutter in his chest whenever he saw him. He finally shut his eyes, thinking of his reunion with Spidey, and wondering what it was the hero had been up to over the past several months. Hopefully he had been staying out of trouble.

* * *

"You're fired." Now that was no way to start a week, Peter imagined. He shook his head and blinked a few times, maybe he was dreaming, he had, after all, dreamed this exact thing before.

"W-what did you say?" He stuttered, a horrible sinking feeling settled in his gut as the world around him did not fade away into his bedroom, but continued to stay the same. Outside Jonah Jameson's office Peter could see his fellow co-workers scuttling about carrying papers and files, ready to be published in the famous Daily Bugle newspaper. However, he was here, digital camera clutched in hand, staring bewildered into his boss' unforgiving glare.

"I said I'm letting you go Mr. Parker." Jonah repeated himself. Peter blinked blankly again. So he had heard him right the first time.

"I...I don't understand." Was all Peter could think to say. The truth of the matter was there were a million things he wanted to say to his employer, but they were all lost at the moment. His mind was a whirlwind of planning, trying to figure out what he was going to do about his upcoming phone bill on Wednesday, his rent due tomorrow, or the student loan debt constantly hanging over his head.

Jameson sighed and leaned back in his desk chair, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Peter...look. I've got to let you go. You haven't been able to provide pictures of other hero's like I've asked you. You keep bringing me Spider-Man this and Spider-Man that. As much as I love to post a juicy article about the webbed screw up, I need a diversity. Ironman, Captain America, Daredevil, someone! But you can't seem to be able to provide that for me. On top of that, you've fallen asleep at your desk five times this past week, and have been late on multiple occasions. It adds up. I tried giving you second, third, and even fourth chances...but for the sake of my company, I'm letting you go." Jameson spat.

Peter finally came around to reality at the sharp creek of Jameson's chair as the man leaned back in it. He fiddled with the lens of his camera, trying to figure out what to even say in a situation like this. He could beg to Jonah, grovel at his feet and make the man feel bad for the penniless Peter Parker. He could lash out, smash the company camera into the glass behind Jonah and really make a mess of things. Or he could take the high ground, and as terrible as Jameson had been, Peter knew he was above making a scene.

"Thank you...for the opportunity." Peter tried not to let his voice crack as he placed the company camera on Jameson's desk.

"Good luck Peter. You can expect your last check by mail on Friday." Jameson added as Peter turned to walk out the door. He didn't bother collecting the things at his desk, none of it was his anyways. He didn't have extra money to spend on desk plants, figurines or even family photos. Instead he gathered his wallet and keys and took the long walk home, even the buss toll wasn't something he was willing to waste what little money he had on.

Peter spent the rest of his afternoon in his drab apartment staring at the barren shelves of his fridge.

"Ramen noodles again." He grumbled under his breath, turning to put a pot of water on his electric stove. As he watched the liquid come to a boil, he pondered where he went wrong in life. Was it when he became Spider-Man? Surely without the duties of being a hero looming over his shoulders he could have gotten better grades and received a full ride scholarship. Or perhaps it was when he declined that spot on the Avengers when he was a teen. If he was an Avenger now, he would have the base to live at and wouldn't have to worry about food, rent or bills. Or maybe it was simply that Peter Parker had been given the short stick in life, everything had been out of his control really. His parents death, the spider bite, and even the death of his uncle and aunt. Yes, life was just determined to screw him over, no matter how hard he tried.

And screw him over it did. Peter had thought that maybe he could find another job before his rent was due. His land lord had already explained to him last month that if he was late again, she would be kicking him out. Peter wasn't picky, he wasn't in a position to be, after all, beggars can't be choosers. However, finding a quick job in New York wasn't the easiest thing in the world, and by Wednesday he was in a world of trouble. He woke up that morning to find his phone service cut off completely and a loud pounding on his apartment door.

"Parker!" The shrill tones of his land lord reverberated through the thin walls. Quickly he leapt from his bed and pulled on a pair of sweat pants from the floor.

"G-good morning Ms. Martin." Peter spread his brightest smile in hopes to catch her in a good mood. It was no use. She was clearly worked up about something, her arms folded across her chest bitterly.

"Peter Parker, where is your rent money?" She frowned, jumping right to the point. Peter felt his smile waver, sweat starting to bead down his brow.

"I uh, don't get payed until Friday." He could feel his mouth drying up.

"Since when?" She raised a brow, "You used to get payed on Tuesdays. The same day your rent is due. But you didn't pay your rent...why else would I be here?" She sneered, her wrinkled lips downturned. Peter knew he was in a heap of trouble, but lying never did any good for him.

"I uh...I got laid off. They're mailing me my check on Friday." He watched as she went from mildly agitated to alarmingly furious in a split second.

"You were fired!? Are you telling me you are out of a job? Oh that's it Parker. I've been more than flexible with you, but I can't do this anymore. I told you last time if you were late again then you were out of here. I want you out on Friday, after you pay me the rent you owe."

Peter's Wednesday didn't get much better, at least, he couldn't remember if it did. After Ms. Martin left his apartment in a huff of angry mutters, he was still standing behind his closed door, just staring at the old worn wood. He couldn't react, he couldn't even muster the energy to cry about it. Instead his mind went over the millions of things he needed to do before he was homeless.

"Homeless..." the word rolled of his tongue and drifted through the air, but it felt like a smack on the face. The friendly neighborhood Spider-Man...was homeless.

"Well...not yet." He reminded himself he still had two days. Two days to figure out what he was going to do with what little furniture he had. He didn't have the money to buy a storage unit, so he would have to get rid of it. He had two days to decide what he wanted to take with him, then pick from that pile all that he could actually carry. He had two days to find the best places around town to dumpster dive, sleep, and shower. Two days to change his life.

.

.

.

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 **Author's Note:**

 _Hey all :) It's been a while since i've been on (a year or two actually) I moved most of my writing over to A03. However, I decided to maybe start posting some of them here as well. This is my most popular fic and is still in the making. Hopefully you guys will enjoy it! I also usually add what I call "Tid-Bit"s to the end of this fic instead of AN's. So i'll do that as well._

 **TID-BIT:**

In 2015, exactly 2,493 homeless youth between the ages of 18 and 24 lived in the streets of New York. Although the percentage of homeless youth has always been kind of low, it has gradually risen over the years.

Sadly, it is disturbingly easy to end up on the streets. You don't have to go through some crazy crisis to find yourself homeless. Most homeless simply can't keep up with all their life expenses and are forced to live on the streets, in cars, shelters or couch surf.

Peter is now one of those unfortunate individuals.


End file.
